


First Impressions of a Riddle Man

by originalcontent



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Drabble I wrote after watching 3x15, Has a Companion piece, I needed something somewhat happy to have, M/M, Will link in it, kill me now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 19:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10793559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalcontent/pseuds/originalcontent
Summary: What was going through Oswald Cobblepot's head the first few times he met Edward Nygma? What did he think and what did he think of him? Most likely, something awful, terribly beautiful.





	First Impressions of a Riddle Man

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [First Impressions of a Flightless Bird](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860864) by [TheDrawingBoard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDrawingBoard/pseuds/TheDrawingBoard). 



The first time was something less than pleasant. He was a creep, the way he smiled and the way he spoke, his stupid questions. All of it was just unbelievably vexing. Edward Nygma, the man with riddles. A quirky man, so neat and tidy. It made him want to mess him up just for being there near him. For interrupting his obviously important business, for invading his personal space. This man was just another goody-two shoes with a serious case of OCD. After their first encounter, he never wanted to see him again. And he didn’t. Not until Theo Galavan ruined his life. Not until the sinister bastard took his dear mother away from him. Not until he ended her life right in his arms. How she smiled at the end of her life, how she worried about him, it broke his heart. The person whom he swore to protect, dying in his arms, fruitless labors surrounding him as she wilted away. Screams wouldn't bring her back, crying wouldn't lessen the pain, killing Theo and Tabitha Galavan wouldn't solve anything. Damned if he didn't do all of those things anyway. After the traumatizing situation was endured, he was left covered with her blood, rage building up as he felt it all slipping away.

And the smug piece of garbage, he smiled and it enraged every fiber of Oswald’s being. He had never felt true anger, true hatred until that moment. And to top it off, the last person who he thought he could rely on was now betraying him. That terrible night, the tables had turned so swiftly, how truly desperate he was. He was ready to die, Oswald was the outstanding combination of ready to tear out Galavan’s throat and accepting of a gun to his head. After such insanity, he was left to the woods, left to survive without his men, his weapons, without anything. Without even his mother’s comforting words. Making his way to the middle of nowhere he stayed, cold, alone, sold out and out of options. With his heart racing uncontrollably and barely escaping certain doom, the man was in a set state of panic as he barreled through the woods. But he found food, along with one- two corpses. Barely sparing a glance, he examined the food, seeing if it was still good. Ignoring the fact a killer was nearby, he devoured the food hastily and scurried off. Bleeding still, even the slight nourishment he managed to find didn't do much in the grand scheme of it all. He was swaying, almost falling to pieces in that trailer. Head spinning faster, faster, faster he heard someone approaching. 

Soon to be found by Mr. Nobody, Edward Nygma. Oswald, the mess that he was at that moment in particular didn't realize it was Edward from the GCPD, he only saw a threat and picked up the pipe he had used as a weapon prior when attacking the man who owned the trailer. And once he heard approaching footsteps, saw the shadow of someone coming to the door, he launched himself forward and grunted. Falling into the ground, he crawled, gasping, attempting to get up, a pain surging through his leg, he saw the other and realized he was not in fact dangerous. Even in this state, he could see he could trust this man for one reason or another, perhaps he was just that desperate as he was stumbling he tried to get to closer to this man, his only hope. “Please- help me!” Voice caught in his throat, struggling as he felt his vision fading, eyes ready to close. And there he was, out cold, in the cold, easy prey. And when he awoke, he was someplace warm, somewhere with a stark contrast to the little hobble of a cabin in the disgusting woods. He was in a bed, a foreign smell hitting him right away, jolting to a sitting position almost immediately, Oswald almost yelped in pain. And there was that man- he couldn’t quite place his name in that moment, his instinct for survival overriding all other things.

And then he knocked him out with some sort of sedative, a needle to his neck. He couldn’t help but struggle to stay awake, pleading with his captor, yet to no avail as he fell back into the darkness. It engulfed him, his lids suddenly heavier as he closed them, left to float in a dreamless state. The last thing he could see, blurry it may be, was that man, smiling and talking to him about something he couldn’t understand as he was washed away. Slowly with a groggy feeling overtaking him, he opened his eyes and was greeted by the same man. His guard up, their interactions were slow, as if he had found a wounded bird and was trying to nurse it back to health. Attempting to gain it’s trust first, but how did Oswald know this wasn’t the kind of boy to manipulate a creature just to amputate him later?

He didn’t know, he spoke with him, learned of his newfound hobby and was asked to essentially become his mentor. What was he thinking? That wasn’t something you asked of someone, let alone with this sort of ‘hobby’. Yet he found something endearing about him, perhaps it was the very outcast vibe he gave off that Oswald could relate to. Or maybe it was the smile that seemed so genuine, whatever it was he felt irritated by it and lashed out as best he could. The former kingpin was stubborn and that resulted in him falling flat on his face, once again in such a vulnerable state. It was becoming less dramatic for him to awake in this bed once again, yet he was shocked to find the gift he was offering. A Leonard. The way he tried to please him, Oswald at any other time might have been flattered, perhaps even smug. The talk of fate, the expectations he had in those big eyes of his when wielding a knife, he wasn’t up to becoming some other man’s role model. Not when he knew the path that he was attempting to stroll was one of carnage, destruction and utter hopelessness. Witnessing it first hand had castrated him of the vigor for rising to the top, reclaiming his throne. All ambition died in his eyes as his mother did in his arms.

The most comfort he could get was humming a song that his mother would sing, how sweet her voice was. How she cared for him more than any other person had ever or could ever do. He could hear the disappointment, and for a moment, the Penguin did care. But then he fell back into his slumbers, the smells of this apartment consuming him in a false sense of security he begrudgingly accepted. And the most important time he woke up it was to the sound of a record, then a piano soon intercepted, and finally a voice singing a song of his memories. When questioning Edward, he was slightly impressed but this was overshadowed by his grief, his own voice drowning with sadness. And just like that, he was confiding into the other who was almost like a stranger but the closest thing he had a to a friend at that moment. Spilling the thread of a story with rushed hands of a damaged man, a man who was close to giving up, he could see that smile with his tearful eyes. 

In a moment of sworn words, ugly accusations and disturbing truths, he finally looked up at the man who saved his life. Holding a knife to Ed’s throat, he felt his entire body shake, something deep down within him started to grow. Something he wouldn’t dare acknowledge until much later. But in that moment, when he took the knife, Oswald didn’t care, he just stood there taking in what he had said about him being a free man. And now here they were, singing a song of his heartbreak turning into a sweet cathartic release, soon leading to bloodshed. Oswald learned that this man was something new in his life, something more stable than a simple henchman, or some pretty little wench, he was something all new and warm and inviting. When he truly thought about it, he considered that the man with the glasses, the charming smile, the smooth hair, that was a man he could have by his side. While he was a lowly beginner, just starting in the world of homicide he was full of potential, which may be part of why he didn’t mind taking him under his wing. Because he could see a bright future with this young man and would see it through, for better or for worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Myself and my partner are in love with this ship at the moment so we both have been writing a lot for this pairing! Here's my half, when they post their's I'll make sure to link it!


End file.
